Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Maldives and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kerrie Biddell to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Young Rascals,
Grauzone,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sunsets and Hearts,
B.T. Express,
Joy Division,
Ponytail,
The Cowsills,
The Dead C,
Godley & Creme,
Ultravox,
the Slits,
The Cure,
June of 44,
The Dirtbombs,
Matthew Bourne,
Clear Light,
Shuggie Otis,
Nick Fraelich,
Reuben Wilson,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
Audionom,
Warsaw,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
China Crisis,
Pere Ubu,
K-Klass,
Charles Mingus,
Spoonie Gee,
Lightning Bolt,
EPMD,
Freddie Wadling,
The Golliwogs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Surgeon,
New York Dolls,
Chris & Cosey,
Fear,
Camouflage,
Scratch Acid,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Trumans Water,
Brand Nubian,
Slave,
Silicon Teens,
Iggy Pop,
Suburban Knight,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Vainqueur,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gang Starr,
Heaven 17,
Siglo XX,
Rosa Yemen,
a-ha,
the Swans,
Steve Hackett,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.